Nevada County picayune., 1887-02-23

her returning. She will never como back"
 Wilhelm was silent.
 ! "A few hasty words-and the words were mine--a few peevish mutterngs at the fate that bahish- ed me from my native land, that had torn from my breast the ln- signia of title and honor, and com pelled me--me. a count, to drag out miserable existence in a for eign country, by aid of my violin. did not mean to imply that 1 be grudged the labor that kept her as lady, but 1 fear led her to be i lievc so; and l would have laid ! down my life next minute 10 have | been able to retract, to uusay my cruel words; but next minute Marie was gone. Gone-yes. gone with tears on her face and mayhap a broken heart, though proud one. And since then have sought and obtained engagements in almost every capital in Europe. have been till now ever on the move, thinking, always thinking, 1 would find my Marie; for one brief note = the only one received-tOld me she was so far independent, and that on her voice alone she would now trust for livlihood. But l am tired, hopeless and weary" And so indeed he looked
 A year passed away. The old man appeared no more in any or clrestra. Hope itself fled from his heart, and he mourned for his dead.
 Wilhelm was frequent visitor at the cottage. Aided in his am bition by the count, and pos. scssessed of the will to work, the determination of triumph, and that mental staying power which ofteu- times leads to success without the aid of genius, the young man con 0uered all difficulties, aud was all ready on the first steps of the lad. der that leads to fame.
 lis employment frequently led him to Italy and to that Rome which of late years appears to have taken new lease of glorious life.
 An event now took place which is common enough in the life of most young men: Wilhelm fell in love. But I do not blame him, for all Rome was captivated by the sweet voice and modest and charm ing manner of young singer that had lately been brought out by d great master.
 Night after night, wherever she sang, Wilhelm was there, listening etthralled. But he could obtain no introduction. She was so near, and yet so far.
 Going home late one night from duties that had occupied him for nearly eight-and forty hours, with little time for sleep, he heard the startling shout of fire. He follow ed the mob and the rattling ill., contrivcd engine down a narrow dark street that, from the showers of sparks and the smoke and heat, seemed on fire from end to end.
 Wilhelm got close to the burning building, and helped to work the engine. But there was other and braver work for him to tackle. For look! the faces of young pe). pie and children frantic with fear appear at an upper window. Who will climb through sparks and smoke up that rlckety ladder! Who will volunteer to save them? Wilhelm will! He springs toward it: up and down, up and down, and he has saved three. He Is scorch- ed and burned, but seems to bear charmed life. The last he saves, to his surprise, if not joy, is the young singer. While she IS borne away in safety, he faints aud falls, It is two days before he comes to his senses at his hotel. It would be weeks before he got round, What mattered iiG She came dai- ly to see and inquire after his wei. fare.
 An! it was the old, old story. But he did not tell it then or there. He told the young singer Il story of different kind: of lovely little cottage among the pine woods of Surrey, and of an old man who was dying of sorrow because his daughter would never come again. And the girl bent her head and sobbcd, and these tears told Will helm all.
 There was joy in that Surrey cot tage when Marie returned. With